


Competition

by thedevilchicken



Category: National Treasure Series
Genre: Cock Cages, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben and Abigail have a friendly competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady Anne Boleyn (Silver_Queen)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Queen/gifts).



They'd been in Germany for about three weeks, and somehow as he stood there in front of the audience in the lecture hall, this was literally the only time Ben had felt like he wasn't in control. 

It wasn't because of the talk he was giving. He knew the material inside out and it wasn't as if he'd ever had much of a problem standing up to talk in front of people - he maybe got that from his mom, since he couldn't actually count the times he'd sneaked into the back of her class back when he was a kid. She was a good public speaker, even if she was a bit of a professor from hell as far as her students were concerned. She liked to say the ones who hated her were just taking it all too personally because okay, maybe she enjoyed her research more than she enjoyed teaching, but she was just trying to make them all into better academics. Ben guessed he'd benefited from that attitude too, over the years. She'd made him better. 

It wasn't because the majority of the people sitting there were German and his expertise in German ran to naming compass points, the word _gold_ and how to request a glass of beer. Then again, he knew how to purchase alcohol in about twenty different languages, and if he needed to insult or insinuate then he usually had a few choice words to say. 

Abigail had been having a ball since they'd arrived in the country, running around speaking German to everyone she came across whether they were actually German-speaking or not, since she really didn't get the chance to speak it all that often back home. She liked to tease him good-naturedly when they got back to the hotel each evening, usually over his inability to order anything more than a refreshing alcoholic beverage when they went out for dinner despite having been engaged to a German-American for a pretty long time by that particular juncture. She was enjoying the situation while it lasted and he guessed he deserved it for his persistent smartassedness. But, he was giving the talk in English with simultaneous translation over headsets for those who needed it, and so it wasn't like he actually had too many quirks of linguistics to worry about. 

The real problem was, Abigail had persuaded him to play a game. If he got through the talk and then dinner afterwards without a hitch, he could choose where they went on honeymoon; if he didn't, she got to choose instead. The problem with _that_ was they both knew she wanted to spend a couple of weeks on a beach in Aruba with a cocktail in one hand and a stack of articles she'd been meaning to make time for in the other, and he wanted to take a tour of historic civil war battlefields in a hilariously overpriced RV. It wasn't like they couldn't afford it but she hated his idea. That meant he should've known all along that the game was rigged. It hadn't been more than hour till he'd been kicking himself for it.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "is the story of how we located the Amber Room."

There was hearty applause. He smiled as best he could. The host thanked him and he left the lectern at the centre of the stage, his gait a little ginger. Abigail was sitting in the front row and she was smiling right from ear to ear. He knew exactly why that was and hoped quite sincerely that no one else had worked it out. 

Dinner was an ordeal. They ate in a fancy restaurant with their host, the head of some kind of German arts council that was a longer word than Ben could actually sound out properly with his semi-working knowledge of the German language. It was just Ben, Abigail, Herr Müller and his wife, a charming woman who looked remarkably like an older version of Abigail, blonde and striking with a very similar accent when she switched into English. Of course, half of the conversation Ben couldn't keep up with and it had nothing to do with the language they'd chosen to speak. He had no appetite. He kept glancing at Abigail but she was pointedly ignoring him and that was probably part of the plan but it did not make it any easier. By the time they got to dessert, he was practically in pieces; he said a hasty goodbye and made a dash for a cab outside while Abigail said goodbye on his behalf. 

"Okay, okay, you win," he said, as she settled into the cab and it pulled away toward the hotel. 

Abigail smiled. "I know," she said, and turned away slightly to look out of the window. It was dark outside and so she was obviously just teasing him. Still. Ben screwed his eyes shut. 

"Can I get out of this thing now?"

Abigail chuckled. "Right now, Ben?"

She had a point. She had the key on a chain around her neck, hanging over the front of her dress so he'd had to look at it sitting there all night, and look at other people looking at it. That had been pretty much the worst thing about it, imagining what she'd say if anyone asked, thinking that someone might know that under his well-tailored suit his cock was padlocked into a silicone cage, like that wasn't a huge leap for most people to make. 

Once Abigail had locked it into place, he'd spent what seemed like for-freaking-ever standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom looking at himself while Abigail dressed in the bedroom. The silicone wasn't totally flexible but covered the length of his cock and parted his balls, looping around to accept a lock on the top, down near the base, and when he finally dressed he looked at himself again, turned to one side then the other and then looked again and again, trying to figure out if anyone was going to be able to tell. Fortunately, the suit was tailored well but had a fairly generous cut to it, though he'd still been wondering for hours since they'd left whether anyone had glanced down and noticed somehow. Then he'd wondered if he cared if they had.

They left the cab, made their way through the lobby, took the elevator up to the room and he trailed after Abigail just like a puppy on a leash. It was impossible not to think about the thing because he felt it every second, had done for the past three hours, every time he moved, fitting there snugly around him. He'd forgotten his lines twice and thanked his lucky stars he always made great notes even though he usually didn't need them because wow, had he ever needed them that night. Each time he'd caught sight of Abigail watching him, watched her toying with the key around her neck, he'd felt a sudden wave of heat pooling down there. He'd thought he could handle it because heck, as much as he enjoyed sex, it wasn't like he was chasing her around like a horny teenager, but there it was anyway. He wanted her. He wanted out of that darned cage and he wanted her. 

"Sweetheart, do you think I could get out of this _now_?" he asked, as he leaned back against the bedroom door once they'd stepped inside. He was trying to seem nonchalant about it but his voice sounded strained. 

She glanced back at him over her shoulder and gestured vaguely. "Unzip me?"

He came closer as she swept her long hair forward over one shoulder, revealing the long zip that ran right down her back, _right_ down, from the top of her deep red dress there between her shoulder blades to the hem by her knees. He stepped in behind her; his pulse quickened as he rested his hands at her hips, as he moved them up over her back to the top of the zipper and pulled it down in one long, slow motion. Before he could do anything else, she stepped forward, stepped away across the room. He felt like he was about to scream. 

"Thank you, Ben," she said, giving him a quick glance as she pulled the dress off and then walked across the room to hang it up in the little hotel closet. Ben just stood there and watched as she did it, in just her high heels and lingerie. The key was still hanging around her neck, tucking down into the front of her bra. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed her legs at the knee and looked up at him. 

"You might want to take off your clothes now," she said. She didn't need to ask him twice. 

They hadn't had sex since Presidents Day. Ben knew that for sure because he had some pretty fond memories of Abigail's particularly patriotic Stars and Stripes negligée. After that, Abigail had gotten a call from a colleague at a university in Germany and they'd been swept up into another crazy whirlwind of adventure, this time in Europe, chasing around following clues that actually translated pretty well from German into English. Riley was home writing his new book and it kept occurring to Ben that this was the first time it'd been just him and Abigail treasure-hunting on their own. She was smart and stunning and turned out to know a surprising amount about the Amber Room from her own little pet project. He'd actually been surprised to find she'd ever worked on anything like that, she was so straight-laced and buttoned-down when it came to hidden treasure.

They hadn't had sex since Presidents Day and as Ben undressed there in the hotel, he guessed that was his fault. He was always busy or engrossed in something and while Abigail understood, he guessed it spoke volumes that it was always when they were at the back of the library just before closing or sifting through boxes of dusty documents that no one had looked at in a hundred years, when they'd reached that annoying point when they'd come to an impasse because not all hunts could be straightforward or even make a whole lot of sense, when suddenly sex seemed like the best plan. He'd lost count of the times they'd fooled around at the back of the stacks in the Library of Congress, trying not to laugh at each other as Abigail hitched up her skirt, or in the stores at a museum they'd talked their way into on the back of their reputation with the Templar treasure and Cíbola, when Ben would go down on his knees and whine about how hard the floor was when he came up for air while Abigail tried desperately not to knock anything off the shelves. 

He stretched out on the bed when she told him to and he watched her watching him. She had the same look on her face as she used when she was figuring out the best method to use on a document she was about to start in on restoring, her head tilted just slightly, her bottom lip caught just between her teeth as she cast an appraising eye over him, head to toe. He loved watching her work sometimes, how meticulous she could be, because it wasn't like he was the only one who got lost in their work, but having that look turned on him was something pretty new. He would've begged for her to touch him if she'd asked him to. He was on the verge of doing it anyway, but then she went ahead and did it before he could make a total ass of himself. He liked the idea that she'd known and decided to show mercy, but that might've been wishful thinking.

She ran her hands up over his legs, from the arch of his foot to his knees and then his thighs. She was standing next to the bed, and the key on the chain around her neck spilled out of her bra and brushed against his chest as she moved, as she knelt on the side of the bed and then shifted to straddle his thighs. The leather of her shoes brushed his calves and he shivered as he watched her there, still not sure how he was meant to react to this when there was still a padlock keeping the cage in place. It seemed totally ridiculous and so damn sexy at the same time, which kind of summed up their whole relationship when he thought about it. 

"So," she said, as she trailed the tip of one finger over the silicone, tracing the outline of his cock though he couldn't actually feel it. "Should I let you go?"

Ben laughed breathlessly. He'd been cycling through various stages of erection for hours to the point where he wasn't sure he could form a coherent sentence and so he just nodded and Abigail smiled in reply. She caught the key in her hand, pulled the chain from around her neck, and finally, _finally_ , she unlocked the padlock and carefully removed the cage. 

Frankly, Ben wasn't sure what he should do next. He had half an idea that he should move, that he should push her down, because his cock was swelling pretty rapidly back to full erection and he was pretty sure that was the endgame she'd been playing toward. Except when Abigail reached out and brushed the back of her hand against his cock he was almost so sensitive he couldn't stand it. He just screwed his eyes closed as she shifted forward, straddled his hips, caught his cock between her thighs against the lace of her panties and he almost came right then and there. She could tell. He could tell she could tell. 

She leaned down, pressed a soft little kiss to the hinge of his jaw. "Hang on just a little while longer," she murmured, right by his ear. He nodded, his eyes still closed, his arms spreading wide on the huge hotel bed. He took two handfuls of sheet and gripped hard as she started to shift her hips against him. 

It was torture, he thought. It was pretty much straight-up torture except he couldn't tell her to stop, but that was really only because he didn't want her to stop. She rocked against him, started grinding against him, the fabric between them rubbing against the length of him, her hands spread over his bare chest. He didn't know how much longer he could last but every second was longer than he'd really expected, until she paused for a moment and shifted, tugged her underwear to the side and then he was inside her, biting back a moan. 

She made it last, riding him slowly, barely even moving except to push her hips down and squeeze around the length of him. Her head tilted back as she did it, her breath audible, and Ben finally found the wherewithal to move one hand, to settle it down low over her abdomen, his thumb dipping down to rub slowly at her clit. Her breath hitched audibly and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. When she looked back down at him, his gaze meeting hers, it couldn't last much longer; he'd been in and out of arousal far too long to last. He squeezed at her hips and she nodded. He had permission. He came with a highly undignified noise and she laughed happily, patting him on the chest.

He didn't finish her off, but that wasn't actually his decision. She stretched out beside him and she did it herself, watching him as she did it. Hell, he wasn't exactly prudish but watching her almost made him blush. He felt lucky; when she came, she screwed her eyes shut and she smiled that big, happy smile that he knew so few people ever saw but him. There were a lot of things about her that no one else knew but him. 

And, of course, there were things only she knew about him. Like the fact it would take a Stars and Stripes negligée or a silicone cock cage to tear him away from his work long enough to keep him from just burning out. She was good for him. He really tried to be good for her, too. These days, he mostly succeeded.

She pulled up the sheets and she settled in closer, on her side, slipping one leg over his and one hand over his chest. He wrapped an arm around her once he'd dimmed the light a little. 

"You know this means we're taking our honeymoon in Aruba, don't you?" she said. 

They both knew they'd do both things in the end; they'd spend a week on a beach until Abigail was just as bored as he was, then they'd head back and they'd head out in the RV and tour battlefields of the civil war until they got sick of that, too. Then they'd go home and they'd turn their attention to their next hunt. But winning still meant something, even if that was only who got to choose where they went first. Winning meant they'd had a competition, and that was half the fun. 

Ben glanced at her, glanced at the cock cage lying discarded on the nightstand, and he raised his brows. "Best two out of three?" 

Abigail laughed. The wedding was scheduled for three months' time; it looked like they wouldn't be bored in the meantime.


End file.
